


paint a picture with your words

by Setkia



Series: My Marvel Stories [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 08:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13384236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: “Hey Foggy?”“Hmm?”“Am I sexy?”Matt can’t hold back a smirk when Foggy chokes on his own spit.





	paint a picture with your words

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Daredevil and have seen like, 1 episode, but I really wanted to do a story about Foggy describing Matt to him, because he hasn't seen himself in forever and this was born. I hope you guys like it.

“Hey Foggy?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I sexy?”

Matt can’t hold back a smirk when Foggy chokes on his own spit. His heartbeat stutters for a moment.

“What’s this about?”

“Just curious,” Matt shrugs. To anyone but Foggy, it sounds innocent. “I haven’t seen my face since I was a child. What do I look like?”

“Um …” Foggy is sweating. He can smell it, hear it as Foggy’s fingers brush against each other in panic. “You’re hot?”

“Is that question?” Matt teases. He straightens in his chair. “But seriously, how? Why?”

“What do you mean _how_?”

“I mean …” Matt mulls it over. Is it really worth confessing? “Your voice is highly attractive, which makes you ‘hot’, but I don’t know if physically you’re attractive.”

“My voice … is attractive?” Foggy echoes, sounding far away.

Matt steels himself, and dares to speak his mind. “What do you mean by I’m attractive?”

“You … you have messy hair. Dark brown, messy hair. It looks soft. You … you’re mysterious, and you have a nice smile. You aren’t judgemental, not by appearances, so people know you like them for them. Your laugh is contagious. You’re smart. You’re clever,—”

“You said I’m smart already—”

“Clever and smart are different. It’s hard to explain, but you’re both. And you’re funny, very witty. You care about others, a lot.” There’s a pause. Foggy is licking his lips. “You can’t dress yourself properly, but it gives you charm. You’re gentle Your voice is … kind. You’re fit. _Really_ fit. You’re humble. You’re a lawyer.”

“You’re stating things, not reasons,” Matt points out. “People who have just met me, they don’t know that. So why?” _Why do I feel their hearts skip beats when they see me? Why did your heart do it when we first met? Why hasn’t it done it since?_

“You look like sex on legs, and your voice is sinful,” Foggy blurts. “Is that what you wanted to hear? Women find you sexy because you’re mysterious and tall and handsome and some kind of fairy tale prince.”

Matt nods slowly. “What …” He’s hesitant. “What about you?”

Foggy stiffens. “What about me?”

“Do those things …” He gulps. Matt is sure even Foggy hears it. “Do those thinks make me attractive? To you?” The last words are almost silent as they slip past his lips. 

Foggy’s heart stops for a moment and Matt’s about to apologize for pushing too far, ready to pretend he never said a thing, Foggy breathes and Matt feels his heart stop instead.

“No.”

“Oh.” He shouldn’t want a different answer, he’s Catholic, it’s _wrong_ , but still … 

“You always open the lights in the room when I tell you I’m coming over. You don’t have to. But you do. And I don’t know why you do it, because that just means it costs more for your electricity bill that you shouldn’t really have to pay. You always play up your blindness around strangers, always letting me guide you. And your grip is always insanely tight, like you’re trying to dig your nails into my skin permanently. You trip me with your cane when you’re bored, and poke me with it to get my attention. You know when I enter a room, even though I was silent, and it’s kinda creepy. You always know when I’m lying. You wear ugly sunglasses, you make horrible blind jokes, you swear in Spanish sometimes. You’re blunt, and don’t know what subtlety is. You tense when you smell something unpleasant, and you laugh at inappropriate moments. You flirt with Siri. You cut yourself whenever you shave. You can beat me in Scrabble, and I don’t have the slightest clue how you do it. 

“And it’s _that_ , all of that, that makes you so … so Goddamn _infuriating_. You smirk like you see everything and your grin is like you know the secrets of the world, but you smile like you’re shattered, and you laugh like you left a piece of you behind. You touch everything like it’s going to break, but you hurt yourself, like pain is the only proof anything is real, and it doesn’t count if it’s _you_ that’s hurting, but it matters, because _you_ matter, and I don’t know why you don’t see that. You sing like you’re trying to figure out how to breathe, unsure, and a bit wrong, but you talk like you’ve already died. You walk like you’re at the edge of a cliff, but you run like you can fly. You’re just . . . so flawed, you’re perfect.”

Matt can’t breathe. There’s a feeling in his stomach and he’s scared to name it, but Foggy’s voice cracks and he licks his lips and doesn’t dare breathe.

“So no,” he says finally. “You’re not hot. Or sexy, or attractive, or pretty, or handsome. You’re beautiful.”

Matt exhales—

“Excuse me—”

“Don’t move.”

Foggy stops.

“I …” Matt’s throat is dry. “I don’t know if you’re attractive. Because I don’t know what you look like, I don’t have the slightest idea. And I wish I did, I wish I knew you before I lost my sight—”

“You wouldn’t stick around if you knew what I looked like,” Foggy says.

“Be quiet, it’s my turn to talk. But I know what you sound like, Foggy. And you sound like a warrior. You sound so _much_ , like emotion always comes to you in big waves, and I can hear it in every syllable you say. And I’m not used to it, even after all these years because I’ve been taught, I’ve been _trained_ , in a way that makes me think I’ve lost my humanity. When they call me the devil, I think they’re right. It makes sense. I don’t know how to _feel_ anymore.

“But you. You’re so bright. You’re full of it, of emotions, of overflowing sensations and you can’t hide a thing when you speak. I hear it all. The nerves, the tension, the lies, I can sense when you’re nervous and I know when you're not paying attention.”

“I’m always paying attention,” says Foggy quietly. “To you.”

“I don’t need you,” says Matt. This is dangerous, so, so very dangerous, but he forces the words out anyway, even when Foggy’s breath hitches. “I’ve never needed you. I’ve never needed anything really. Frankly, I think it’d be unhealthy as hell if I needed you. I know if you went away, I’d go on as I always do. It’d take me a few weeks, but I’d move on. I have never, and never will need you, Franklin Nelson.

“But I _want_ you. And it fucking terrifies me. Because I’ve never asked for more, never felt the compulsion to want something before. I’ve never felt the urge to be selfish before, I’ve always decided I can do without because it’s never necessary and you’re not, you’re really not necessary to my survival, not like food, not like water. It’s not like you’re up there in the things that are required to keep me breathing. 

“Maybe wanting you isn’t enough, maybe you need to me need you, but I can’t do that. I don’t even know what it means to need someone. But I’m here, telling you that I want you to stay. Not out of some compulsion, or because I need it or else I’ll die, but I’m here because I want you to be, not because my brain tells me I need you here. I’m telling you this because you can make the choice now, whether you want me, if you want _this_. If you stay, because you want it, not because you need it, because the world tells you that you need it.

“Foggy Nelson, do you want me?”

Foggy chokes.

Matt has never wished he could see more than he does now.

“Yes.”

Matt checks his heartbeat.

There are no lies.


End file.
